


Porcelain

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Awkward Virgin Kylo Ren, Bath Sex, First Time, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6881500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux decides to teach Ren something about self care. Too bad Hux only cares about himself.</p>
<p>(Well, that's what he <i>says</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brodinsons (aeon_entwined)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/gifts).



> So: I've been a little quiet about things, because I have one of them brains that don't always work right. Consequently, this is entirely indulgent on my part; the characters are probably wildly OOC, but I wanted storms and I wanted baths and I wanted Hux being the one to initiate their intimacies, because so often I've had Kylo creeping on him first. This is what resulted. Whoops.
> 
> And I'm gifting this to [@brodinsons](http://brodinsons.tumblr.com) because goddammit, she got me into this ship and she's always there to share headcanons and speculate over how wrecked Hux could make Ren, if he so felt the urge. (Although we all know Hux would catch _the dreaded feels_ himself, sooner or later.) I also just want to say thank you to anyone who has read along with my stories, commented, kudos'd, and just generally been lovely to me. I have terrible self-esteem at the best of times, and the kindness I've been shown over the last couple of weeks has helped me and my dumb brain rather a lot.
> 
> And if you ever want to talk kylux, you can always come visit my tumblr [here](http://claricechiarasorcha.tumblr.com). Otherwise...hopefully there's something for you to enjoy, here. Thank you. <3
> 
> ETA: [@ottenebrare](http://ottenebrare.tumblr.com) did the most _gorgeous_ little piece of fanart for this story, found [here](https://ottenebrare.tumblr.com/post/144684983923/i-shouldnt-be-letting-you-do-this-its-too). Oh man. It's wonderful. Ren, you are _doomed_ and you know it.  <3

Contrary to popular belief, Hux did not know everything that happened upon either the _Finalizer_ or Starkiller Base – although he did most certainly have a good working knowledge of such matters. But while he did tend to be aware of Kylo Ren’s whereabouts, it still came as some surprise to discover that the man was also planetside. He himself had come down from the _Finalizer_ some day cycles beforehand to supervise a very particular construction project, one that could be of no interest of the Knights of Ren.

With a tight schedule already constricting many of his activities, Hux had long since decided to leave the mystery of Ren’s presence until a later date, unless the man did something to change his mind. And yet, it was not destroyed consoles or staff overloading in the medbay that drew his attention – rather, an overhead conversation in a service corridor had him pulling up short, calling before him two startled and contrite Stormtroopers from upon their patrol.

“So – allow me to clarify this.” Casting his eyes between the pair, he repeated, “Kylo Ren is outside. Again. As he often is, according to what I just heard.”

“Yes, sir.” The ‘trooper shifted, hands too tight about the blaster; he’d have to bring that up with Phasma. It wouldn’t do to have jumpy trigger discipline amongst the troopers.

But that was not the concern of the moment. While it seemed Ren had held his calm for the moment, it still unnerved Hux to think of Ren roaming about Starkiller like some hulking fantasy from a child’s nightmare.

“What is he doing out there?”

“Some sort of training. We think.” The ‘trooper paused, sounded extremely unhappy. “We don’t exactly ask. Sir.”

“One would suppose not.” With a snort, Hux turned away, mind already upon better resources than ‘troopers who clearly needed their basic training refreshed.

It proved easy enough to access information on the matter. A tracker had been installed on Ren’s person, as per Snoke’s command, long before Ren had first been assigned to the _Finalizer_. Hux doubted that Ren was unaware of its existence, though he had no real way of knowing whether or not Ren knew that Hux currently had access to its data stream. But then, he didn’t exactly require any particular authorisation to use it, save his singular rank.

Collating the data became an intermittent hobby over the next week; despite a demanding schedule, Hux still could find a moment to download the latest information from Ren’s tracker, translating it through several programmes until it became something uniform and useful. While the timing itself varied, it appeared Ren would spend the same approximate amount of time outside. The locales shifted with no discernible pattern, though they tended to be equidistant from the base; it seemed all could be reached on foot, given Ren’s average velocity never exceeded what might be expected of a man at as brisk a walking pace as such terrain might allow.

Hux had, for some time, been toying with the idea of cultivating Ren’s acquaintance outside the uneasy pseudo-rivalry their respective ranks provided them. From childhood he had desired true power, and though Ren’s own particular power was not something he had considered essential then, Snoke’s influence over the First Order and its subsequent rise could not be denied now. Despite having little interest or respect for Force users, Hux could recognise their use and value.

And Ren might have much use – if he were approached in the right way. For a creature so feared, Hux had come to realise he was also surprisingly delicate. It put him in mind of a teacup he’d once broken as a child. His mother’s sorrow had been worse than his father’s fury; the teaservice had been one of the few personal treasures she’d taken from their home on Arkanis, when the advance of the Republic had driven the old Imperialists to exile upon great starships. Though repaired, the little teacup had never been the same. Hux had always been able to see the fine lines of that old breakage, the offset pieces of even so careful an adhesive.

Maximum efficiency in all situations could be best achieved by preventing such breakage in the first place. But then, Hux had always been very good at putting things back together. One did have to be prepared for any and all eventualities.

Yet it all began on a whim, one late afternoon. Following a briefing meeting Hux dismissed his engineers, remained himself in the emptied room; seated at the conference table with half a cup of caf at his right elbow, he called up the latest data set. And then, he frowned. Ren was outside – and by averages, he would soon be due inside.

That realisation brought Hux, shortly afterward, to standing near one of the bulkhead doors. With a silvered flask in one hand and datapad in the other, he realised he made quite the sight. Subsequently, any overly curious glance from ‘trooper or technical crew he met with a cold steady glare that sent them skittering away in fear of immediate reassignment to reconditioning.

But he did not have long to wait. Even Kylo Ren, creature of constant chaos, could be occasionally predictable.

He stormed inside in a great flurry of motion, black robes painted in a swirling starscape of snowflakes. The helmet rendered him inscrutable as always, though his aura held the usual heaviness of purpose that kept most at safe distance. Hux had never cared for it. Thus he remained waiting in his chosen place as Ren strode ever nearer, no attention paid to his surroundings with lightsaber quiescent, clipped to one narrow hip. Hux allowed his eyes to flicker over it, just one moment, and then fixed them upon the man himself.

“Lord Ren.”

Hux had timed the moment to perfection; when Ren halted, turning his head, they stood but a moment apart. “General.” His head tilted, not in deference, but in scrutiny of the item held out to him. “What is this?”

“An energy formulation. Hot. Sweet. Calorie-dense.” The man’s dubiousness grew only ever more apparent, for all Hux could not see his face; he added, offhand and guileless, “It’s rather palatable, too.”

Even as Ren took it – and Hux had not doubted he would; Ren’s childish nature had its benefits – he said, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because I’ve seen the readouts. I know what the weather is like out there.” As his datapad gave a low chime, begging his attention, Hux allowed his gaze to slip downward. “And I’ve seen under that helmet. Force or not, you’re still human.”

The unsettling gaze of said helmet fixed upon him, silver and dark. But Hux had been raised amongst traitors and ‘troopers alike. He knew the value of a poker face, whether one generated by design or desire.

And in the silence Hux provided, Ren spoke first, for all the modulator so kindly masked the true intent of his voice. “Why are you doing this?”

With attention still fixed upon the datapad, Hux allowed his brow to furrow, fingers in quickstep over the screen. “You have an assignment in the morning. You should be prepared for it.”

“I see.”

“You are part of the crew.” Now he glanced up, an eyebrow arched, words as clipped and crisp as any military parade. “I need you functional,” he added with smooth grace, already sliding the datapad into one pocket of the greatcoat. “Good day, Ren.”

It appeared Ren had nothing further to say. Hux still allowed himself a small smirk as he strode away – he could, after all, feel the man’s eyes upon him the entire length of the corridor.

Gaining a pupil’s interest was always the best place to begin the lesson.

 

*****

 

Hux had no real idea of what sort of training the Sith or the Jedi might have traditionally undergone. He also had no way of knowing if Ren’s behaviour was at Snoke’s command, or was just some peculiar form of self-flagellation he’d taken up of his own volition.

But it was easy enough to study his work, so to speak. While he had expected Ren to go upon his mission and then remain upon the _Finalizer_ , he had in fact returned to Starkiller – and all this, despite the fact there was no need for him on the surface. There never had been. Hux’s own current presence was not because he was the ultimate commander of the project, but rather that his own extensive training in engineering allowed him to better manage this particular phase than many of his carefully-selected staff.

And he took pleasure in it; with the current low profile being practised ahead of the project’s completion, there were few active campaigns in the field to amuse himself with. Most involved little more than subtle political wrangling. Otherwise, he might entertain himself with the regular formulation and production of propaganda, in the form of holovids and printed flimsies passed out amongst the populations of First Order worlds. They knew something was coming. That their salvation neared. Hux was always only too pleased to remind them.

And yet, here Kylo Ren remained, still upon Starkiller. Hux supposed the Stormtroopers had been correct in the assumption that the man used the inhospitable terrain for his training. At least it seemed less destructive than his usual tendencies, though Hux still could not help but wonder what damage Ren might do to the extensive external structures radiating out from the half-subterranean base itself.

Yet, he wasn’t thinking of him when it happened. Seated in his office, the evening meal come and gone, the base-wide alert went out with a suddenness that prickled even his thick skin. A violent storm, unpredicted, now bore down upon them. All personnel were to return to base and prepare for subsequent lockdown.

Hux had little interest in the process; while the base was his responsibility, he knew that the staff had been trained for any such eventuality. And then, he frowned, reached for his datapad. With the flick of a finger, he opened the application he used for the Ren project. A pause was all he needed to gain the information needed. Then, reaching for his greatcoat, he strode down to one of the vehicle bays, moving against the tide of personnel retreating deep inside the base.

“Prepare me a snowspeeder.”

The Stormtrooper securing the vehicle bay looked up, unhappily startled. “Sir,” she said, fingers already moving to the command panel. And then, uncertainty held them still. “Sir, there are reports of an incoming storm—”

“Yes, I am aware of them.” As if the public address system wasn’t warbling said warnings in a constant background stream, his own datapad still periodically pinging fresh updates. “Prepare a snowspeeder.”

As general, he had no need to wait to see if such orders would be obeyed. Moving instead to one of the lockers, he shed his greatcoat, slipping awkwardly into a thickly insulated jacket, the hood pulled up over his head. The indignity of googles and the scarf that would swathe his face would simply have to be borne; both were quite preferable to unfortunately placed frostbite. Hux tended to allow himself some vanity. He was the face of the Order’s propaganda campaign, after all.

“Is it ready?”

Her unhappiness had not abated, though one gauntleted hand indicated where a speeder had been manoeuvred into launch space. “Shall I pilot you?”

“I am perfectly capable of piloting my own speeder.”

Even behind such a mask, Hux could _hear_ the flush of humiliation colouring the ‘trooper’s unseen features. “I – of course, sir.”

“Is it ready?”

“Yes.” And the next words were blurted out, faintly distorted behind the mask by dismay. “Would you prefer an escort, sir?”

“I know where I am going.” Already he moved away, eyes upon the as-yet unopened blast doors. “If I require assistance, I’ll call for it.”

The quiet thrum of it felt true to him, beneath even heavily gloved hands. Hux had never had much interest in piloting, for all the workings of the machines themselves fascinated him. And yet, as he pulled the speeder to hover height, angling towards the opening doors, he could take something glorious from this. It seemed a microism of the First Order’s progress: a sleek and powerful machine, perfectly ordered and maintained. And now, as he moved out into the moody gloom of the planet itself, he skipped along the cold surface of what would be their greatest technological triumph.

_All while hunting down the mystical fool who would ruin it all, if not brought to heel_.

The tracker meant Hux found no challenge in locating him. He hadn’t wished for one anyway. Hux knew himself to be a competitive man, but he was not a masochist with it. As he eased up the ridge he could see Ren had heard the speeder’s approach; he was settling the helmet back upon his head as Hux dismounted. He could have berated him for it. Yet he’d seen enough of Ren’s dealings with Snoke to know a spoiled child would take no notice of something that did not matter to either of them, right now.

“There is a storm coming,” he said, coming to Ren’s side; he could see the man’s hands had curled already to fists, though his lightsaber remained upon his belt.

“I know.” The modulator crackled, air strange and electric. “I’m waiting for it.”

“Outside. Dressed in a dire lack of appropriate gear.”

“It’s not your concern.”

Such grave pronouncement from such a creature, blackened smudge against the greying snow, struck him as rather hilarious. Fortunately the thick coverings hid his smirk, even though he supposed it mattered little to a mindreader. “It will be,” Hux said with mild contempt, “when Snoke asks why I let you stand outside and catch your death.”

“Would you miss me?”

Mocking though it was, Hux took the words at face value, for all the great thick coat surely masked his shrug. “For whatever reason, it appears Snoke would.” And, narrowing his eyes behind the goggles, he added with offhand care, “I suppose I could be irritated by your absence.” One hand rose, indicated the landscape, fell back to his side. “I’d certainly have more than a few idle repair crews I’d have to redeploy to other ships in the region.”

Turning, now, Ren’s voice barely carried to him across the thickening air. “Go back to your spreadsheets and budgets, General,” he said. “I have work to do.”

Hux took a deep breath; the thin air of Starkiller had always left him lightheaded in a way he knew he wasn’t supposed to enjoy. “Get in the speeder, Ren.”

Something in the tone had him turning; Hux grinned vicious behind his scarf. He’d always enjoyed the rare moments he actually surprised Ren. “What?”

“I’m not leaving until you get in.”

“You’ll die out here.”

It was meant as contempt, as a glad promise; Hux heard only the unease lurking beneath. “Possibly.”

“No.” Ren took one step forward, footfall heavy in the snow. “You _will_.”

“How unfortunate.” He’d have raised an eyebrow, if Ren had been able to see it. And even with the goggles he met Ren’s gaze behind the mask, his own smile bland and wide. “I do wonder how you’ll explain that one to Leader Snoke.”

“Are you telling me you’d let yourself die, just to demean me in the eyes of my master?”

He actually allowed himself a laugh. “Well, it has been a slow week.”

How he wished he could have seen Ren’s face, at that; though he’d seen him without the mask but rarely, his expressions had always been a joy to behold, even for one as disinterested in chaos as Hux himself. But Ren appeared to have brought himself back to some semblance of control. Hux faintly wondered if the man had been meditating upon this spur of snow and stone when Ren said, slow, “Starkiller is nearly complete.”

“Well, call it a celebration, then,” he said, glib as a two credit whore, and Ren’s answer came more wondering than spiteful.

“You’ve gone mad.”

“Possibly,” he repeated, now almost gloating. “It’s also been a very _long_ week.”

Yet the humour of it did pall in the silence that followed. Ren stood before him, wordless in the encroaching cold and darkness of both night and storm. The wind, already rising, now crept relentless through even the thick insulation of his coat.

“I could take it from your mind,” Ren said, sudden as lightning strike. “Why you are doing this.”

“You could.” Hux opened his hands in open agreement, his voice pitched higher to carry against the wind. “But you’re aware how difficult that is for you to do without my cooperation.”

It seemed Ren actually _snorted_ behind his mask. “He should never have taught you those skills.”

“It is standard procedure.” This smile, though brittle with cold, was perhaps the most genuine of the entire conversation. “I just happened to be very good at it.”

One gloved hand rose, the fingers flicking back at him; the casual gesture hit him with the weight of a shove. “The First Order still needs you.”

Hux pushed back, and held his ground. “Indeed it does,” he said, and braced himself for further theatrics. That Force shove had been but a glancing blow, in terms of the power Hux had seen him previously display – both upon staff, and their expensive equipment.

And yet, Ren only turned, the fluttering of his robes like the beating of dark wings in the still-rising wind. “Get in the speeder.”

Rolling his eyes, Hux moved this time quite of his own accord. “I believe that’s my line.”

“But I’m piloting,” he added, and Hux frowned; even in the dark and with the mask, he fancied he could imagine the glint in Ren’s dark eyes.

“I—”

“No argument.”

Hux chose not to provide one, taking his seat with no further words. He had Ren where he wanted him. It also provided him the observation that Ren was an oddly competent pilot, speeding them with admirable smoothness across the snow, chasing what little light remained as they returned to the squat array of buildings that housed mighty Starkiller. The wind had only grown harsher, the first lashings of snow stinging even through his thickly-wound scarf.

Gliding into the hangar, the blast door irised closed behind them, locking even before Ren had brought the speeder to its cradle. Though they’d barely cleared the threshold already the remaining personnel were beginning to batten down; outside, the howl of the wind had graduated from low rumble to increasing scream. Stripping out of the hood and coat, the goggles long discarded, Hux looked over to where the other man had already turned to go.

“Lord Ren,” he called, clear and carrying across the space between them. “A moment, if you would.”

It could only ever be a gamble. But he did not leave. The pique of curiosity had long been the common weakness of any creature with the slightest hint of intelligence. With his greatcoat how again upon his shoulders, Hux nodded towards the quietened corridors.

“Walk with me.”

While Hux framed it more as a request than outright order, he would not stoop to wording it as one. Either way, it brought Ren to his side. Still the helmet remained; the vocoder, as always, left his voice low and distorted.

“Where are we going?”

“Your quarters.” He kept his eyes ahead as he began to move with undeniable purpose. “We must talk.”

Ren matched him step for step, moving ahead only when it came time to key the door panel. He then walked in first, though he made no effort to prevent Hux’s own passage.

All his own aplomb quite vanished the moment Hux entered the other man’s quarters upon Starkiller. Though Ren spent little time here, he could see where the standard accoutrements of an officer’s quarters had been removed. The living area had been all but emptied of furniture, leaving it as austere as it was bland. In fact, he could have called it almost – lonely.

“No.” The pronouncement came hard, quick as his eyes cast about one final incredulous time. “No, this won’t do at all.”

“You are free to leave now you’ve seen me to my chambers.” And somehow, even that dour modulator had never been enough to temper Ren’s sarcastic bent. “I don’t kiss on the first date, General.”

But he’d already turned, jerking his head towards the still opened door. “Come with me.”

And he could not be surprised that Ren followed, for all he felt Ren’s own surprise that he came at all. The helmet continued to mask his mobile features. Hux did not care. They had time enough for that, yet.

His own quarters were some distance from Ren’s -- about as far as they could be, while keeping them both within the area set aside for the officers’ barracks. Their grim, twinned silence earned them some glances upon the way, but his staff knew well enough not to stare – even had it not been Kylo Ren at his side lurking like a looming shadow at his side. That silence did not lift as he entered his own door code, nodding the man inside before smartly crossing the threshold and palming the lock behind them.

Ren had moved some distance inside, centering himself on the cool smoothness of the floor. With his gaze turned upon the great transparisteel of the viewport, it would seem he took in the stark vastness of Starkiller beyond – save for the fact the storm shutters closed it all out, left them alone in the dark, inside.

 “Take off that mask.”

He turned, just a little – just enough. Ren had never frightened Hux, but he could see where the man mimicked the lines and teeth of other people’s nightmares. “Does it disturb you?” he asked. Hux rolled his eyes, hands folded neatly at the small of his back, beneath the greatcoat.

“I want to speak with you. Not the mimicry of a mere droid.”

The dark hair always surprised him, spilling from the helmet in an unfairly soft cloud. Tonight it was still lightly speckled not with snow, but with the droplets of water that remained as ghosts of their former presence. Each sparkled like a diamond in the low light Hux had summoned; it loaned the odd creature an ethereal tone, as if he were but starscape given human form.

Hux kept such poetry to himself, for now. Rather he removed only a glove; even as Ren frowned at the movement Hux stepped forward, palm pressed to one cheek. Immediately he recoiled back, with no grace whatsoever; in fact he could almost be said to be flailing, balance awry and eyes very wide in that pale long face.

“What are you _doing_?”

“You’re cold.” Raising the opposite hand, Hux stripped off the other glove and stowed both away in a pocket of the greatcoat. “Idiot. Standing out there before a storm.” And now he shrugged the coat from his shoulders, turning to the small vestibule through which they’d entered. “You’d have frozen to death,” he said, securing it upon a hook. Behind him, Ren spoke, slow and halting in that odd voice of his.

“It is not so easy for me to die.”

Yet it sounded less a boast than it should have been, coming from one such as Kylo Ren. Hux let it go as a fascination for another time. One plan had already been pushed to motion, tonight, and such knowledge would alter its trajectory but little. With a wave of one hand, he indicated the low couch, utilitarian in colour and shape.

“Sit down.” Then, to the comms unit, Hux gave a murmured order. Even as Ren took his place there, upon the edge, clearly ill at ease, Hux moved to one of the closets. Having retrieved a thick blanket, he tossed to him from across the room. Quick reflexes had Ren snatching it out of the air, even as his eyes never moved from Hux.

“What is this?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” When he turned, his expression bore no smile, though he left the tone light as sun-riddled ice. “Yes, your room was that of an ascetic, Ren, but I did see a blanket or two. I’m sure you can work out the use of that one.”

“General.”

The low warning of it was meant for far lesser men. “There is a droid coming. Answer the door like a civilised person, and take the delivery. And then make use of that, too.” Waiting for no reply nor assent, Hux turned instead to the door that led to the bedroom. “I’ll be with you presently.”

Once he’d moved into the refresher, Hux allowed himself a moment of pause. While this had been an idea he’d had reasonably early on in proceedings, he had not thought to bring it to action at this time – and not with so little preparation. Then he moved onwards, dismissing any unease as no true concern. He’d learned long ago to run the same simulations, over and over, and react to every slight change with the same casual professionalism. Such was the nature of chaos; a tiny crack, blossoming into utter disorder. Unless one became adaptable. Unless one learned to improvise, to change tack while still maintaining course.

There would have been another plan to set into action had he emerged from the refresher to find Ren gone. But Ren had stayed. Though the blanket remained folded at his side, unused, he had at least answered the door. A steaming vacuum flask sat between his too-large hands, opened, half-filled.

And when Ren glanced up, his shoulders were hunched forward – just a little, but enough for Hux to call it defensive. He still managed an odd sort of dignity with it when he said, “I seem to have developed a taste for this.”

“Good.” It didn’t surprise him to know he meant it. “It’s my own particular blend. I developed it while at the academy, though I found I needed to make some adjustments here on Starkiller.” When he raised a hand, ran it back through his hair, he noted the way Ren’s eyes followed his fingers, then stayed on the low flame of his hair. “The ‘troopers find it palatable and useful, both. While the latter is more important, the former does help with morale.”

His eyes flickered down again, generous lips curled to something faintly like a sneer. “I assumed that if morale dropped, you simply beat it back into them.”

“Physical discipline does have its place.” One hand rose, idly tugged at the high collar of his jacket; again, Ren’s eyes followed his fingers with gratifying speed. “But it needn’t be the only method. In fact, it shouldn’t be.” Now he laced his fingers together again, hands returned to his back. “Have you spoken with Leader Snoke recently?”

Stiffening, his verbal capacity dropped to nearly zero. “No.”

“Hmm. Neither have I. I do hope he appreciates how on schedule Starkiller truly is.” Again his hand moved out, this time indicating the flask; he watched Ren’s eyes flicker between that and his hand, realising perhaps Ren had never seen him without gloves.

“Are you finished?”

His lips pursed, eyes now upon the liquid as if he could divine something from an item so scientifically formulated. “No.”

“It doesn’t matter.” And he smiled; from the taken aback look upon Ren’s face, he’d never seen this particular smile in person. Hux couldn’t be surprised. He usually reserved it for propaganda and other such political machinations. “You can bring it with you,” he added, even as he saw Ren’s hands tighten about the flask.

“Where are we going?”

“Come.”

While Ren would always remain a stubborn creature – Hux despaired of what a horror he must have been, as a child – that same curiosity of earlier had him rising, following where Hux gestured him beyond the bedroom and into the refresher. There, he went very still. The casual luxury of Hux’s free-standing bathtub lay before him, deep water glistening with fragrant oil. As his hand loosened Hux dipped forward, retrieved the trembling flask, and set it aside.

“It’s for you.”

Unnecessary as the words actually were, they at least startled Ren back to life. As he turned a hunted look upon him, it almost startled Hux to see how young he now seemed. “What is this?”

“A bath.” He waved a hand, the dim golden light reflecting from neat fingernails. “It’s traditional to remove your clothing, first.”

“I know what a bath is.” Irritable, now, Ren wore his usual petulance as armour. But the cracks between the plates could be seen where his eyes locked on the faint ripple of the water. As if in time with the shift of the liquid, his voice wavered. It sounded oddly young, uncertain; just as he hid his face with the mask, he doctored this odd voice with the vocal modulator. “I…I just…”

And Hux only shrugged. “Go on, then.”

His hands rose, eagerness overtaking sense with alarming speed – and then he stopped, face twisted into sudden suspicion. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

“I grew up in a military academy, Ren. The naked form holds very little mystery to me.” At the clear incredulity upon Ren’s features, he turned his eyes heavenward. “Fine. I’ll turn my back.”

“Why aren’t you just _leaving_?”

“Because I wish to speak with you. And I won’t do it through the door.” And he glanced back, frowned at where Ren’s hands still remained frozen at his belt. “Do hurry up, I had the water temperature perfect.”

Ren moved quickly; Hux turned back at the sound of a body, sliding into the water. Then he clucked his tongue at the clothes discarded on the floor.

“Feral beast.” But he put no heat into it; such matters were issues for another day, and he had to work to make sure those other days came soon enough. Instead he busied himself with removing his own boots, jacket. When he glanced up, he found the faint alarm upon Ren’s face to be almost a beautiful thing.

“What is it?”

“You’re…not getting in with me, are you?”

“Of course not.” Seating himself upon the chair in one corner, Hux folded one leg over the other. He only permitted himself the briefest regret that he had not thought to fetch himself a wine glass, and a bottle of something stronger with which to fill it. Then Ren himself pushed his attention elsewhere, lips twisted, eyes very dark in the refresher’s soft yellow light.

“Why are you doing this?”

His foot swung in pointless rhythm, stopped. “You’re acting like a child.” Tilting his head, Hux raised both eyebrows. “Therefore, I am treating you like one.”

“By running me a bath?”

“And by making sure you get into it, yes.” He allowed one corner of his mouth to curve brutally upward. “Shall I wash you, too?”

The flush began low, swept upwards at alarming speed. Hux found himself quite taken with discovering the source, though it could only be but hard to see with the water. Despite that, he could see Ren possessed a fine body indeed.

“Don’t stare at me.”

“Why not?” He glanced upward, knowing his eyes had darkened to the storm-blue of an uneasy ocean. “You’re rather appealing.”

“Don’t _tease_ me.”

Beneath the anger, Hux could make out a genuine note of unease. Permitting himself a faint smile in return, he leaned back upon the chair, foot gently tapping the air in unseen rhythm. “I’m quite aware you think I do nothing all day, Ren – that my title is purely ceremonial. But there are a good many other things I could be doing right now, and none of them involve supervising your worst excesses.”

One hand slapped the water, hard; the sound echoed like blaster shot, Ren’s eyes dark from beneath bunched eyebrows. “Then why am I here?”

Hux only blinked. “Because I wanted to do it.”

And Ren snorted; though some of the tension had leeched back into the water, the intensity of his eyes still matched the gravitational pull of a black hole. “Let me have your mind.”

“You don’t kiss on the first date.” This smile was a thin thing, even as his heart began a quicktime beat utterly at odds with the ordered structure of his thoughts. “And I don’t give up my mind. We can learn to respect each other’s boundaries, surely.”

And Ren shook his head, the dampened ends of his hair trailing over the flushing skin of throat and shoulder. “I need to know why you are doing this,” he insisted, and Hux could taste familiar ozone upon the thickened air, warm though it already was with heat and fragrance. Rising from his chair, he crossed the short space between them, gazed down upon him.

“Sit up.”

Ren had already begun to rise at Hux’s approach – and with most of him remaining beneath the water level, it could not but bring to mind the great glacial icebergs upon Starkiller’s open waters. They left so very much unseen. But, in this, Hux had enough: the bruising trailed over his body in bold patches, mottled and ranging from blue-black to sickening yellow. The exhaustion of his drawn features, the red rims of his clouded eyes: all spoke to a man on the brink of utter disaster.

And Hux, raised amongst exiles in the furthest reaches of the known galaxy, had never been a man to allow such waste.

“There’s a relaxant, in the bathoil.” Now upon his heels, Hux dipped his hand into the water; cupping a handful as he moved it up, he then allowed it to trail down Ren’s motionless arm. “It helps,” he murmured, withdrawing it again; Ren’s eyes followed, his overlarge form too still by half.

“Is this what you do?” It seemed he wished to be contemptuous; it emerged as something closer to pleading. “To relax?”

“Not often,” he said, and it was no closer to a lie than the actual truth. “But yes. I do.” Sitting back more properly upon his heels, he allowed the damp hand to rest upon a thigh, felt Ren’s hot gaze settle there. “Would you care for more tea?”

And he glanced up, then away; too quick a motion, indeed. “No.”

Ren fell to moody silence there, regret painted upon the air in a manner which Hux, Force-blind though he might be, could almost reach out and touch. As the other man hunched forward in the bath, Hux had to marvel at the sight; strange how a man of his size could appear so small. And then he was moving forward again, both hands cupping water.

Ren jerked back from where Hux upended it over his bowed head. “What are you _doing_?”

“Washing your hair.” He gave a low snort, repeated the movement. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself.”

Ren had nothing to offer to that. In the silence that followed, Hux retrieved his own hair product; a low heat curled in his stomach, shifted along his spine to scent himself upon Ren’s thick hair. Working it through, fingers strong and knowing, he’d himself almost fallen to the spell of it when Ren spoke.

“I had servants to do this.” His voice came sudden, loud, and yet strangely small. “When I was little.”

Hux’s rhythm did not break. “I’m not a servant, Ren.”

“Sometimes she would do it.” His head bowed beneath Hux’s calm ministrations, chin tucked tight to chest. “But she was gone so much.”

A shiver of something skipped merry down his spine: mean-spirited pleasure, keen delight, some bastard combination of the two. It didn’t much matter. They both were the victory he had come here seeking.

“I shouldn’t be letting you do this.”

“It’s too late.” Hux reached down, brought more water upward, let it fall in sweet-scented unholy baptism. “It’s already done.”

Ren had nothing to say to that. Sinking lower into the water, he closed his eyes, allowed Hux to go about his work. He couldn’t complain; with his lips barely above the waterline, it only made his task easier. But he could not help but regret the loss of a view; Ren’s collarbones, sharply demarcated beneath his pale skin, had invited the touch of both finger and tongue. And he rather suspected he might be able to indulge in both, tonight.

“Hux?”

Rinsing his hands now, at the sink, he turned just a little. “Yes?”

And Ren had risen in the bathwater, head tilting forward, charcoal eyes set in his pale face, but a moment from frank ignition. “Look at me.”

Hux came willingly across the floor, silent in soft socked motion. There he went to his knees, beside the high fine porcelain of the free-standing tub. The dark eyes watched him still, and he felt a chill across his skin – as though they still stood together in the storm that raged far beyond their hearing, now.

“You’re trying to manipulate me.”

Though he shrugged, Hux did not break their gaze at all. “I am trying to gain your trust.”

“It seems an odd way to go about it.”

“Perhaps.” He leaned forward: too far, perhaps. “But then, it really isn’t,” he whispered, because Hux had learned long ago how to fall.

The kiss was a sharp and uncertain thing; Ren froze at the first press of lips to his own. And then: he turned too fierce, too quick. The clumsy tilt of head, the grasping hand in his hair, catching on the shell of his ear; his teeth were too grasping, his tongue too sloppy and too demanding. Hux let him have it anyway, almost chuckling to himself, low in his throat. And in return Ren made a short sound of rumbling disgust, pressing forward even as Hux pulled back. Seeking leverage to pull back, to get some air, he grasped the edge of the bathtub, attempting to rise to his feet.

Ren answered by grasping about his shirt collar, and hauling him bodily into the bath.

For that, he deserved no reward. Hux gave him one anyway, greedy with his grasping hands as he splayed them across the broad slickness of chest and throat; Ren’s own hands roamed in hitching search over back and shoulders, one palm anchoring upon his ass and then refusing to move. Leaning back, his hair fallen into his eyes and lips red-swollen, Hux found something like victory upon those unusual features.

“Your uniform is ruined.”

And the smugness of the announcement had Hux reaching down, flicking a nail over one nipple so that Ren gasped, shivering beneath him in the shared water. “Well, I _do_ own more than one, Ren.”

This time, he focused his kisses upon the long line of his neck, the trail of moles there like a star-trail to nowhere. His hands dipped lower, finger-light across the contoured planes of chest and stomach. Ren’s strange, panting breath came as odd harmony to the melodic movement; the frank uncertainty of it left Hux possessive, curious, demanding as he sought out new reaction. As he pressed another open-mouthed kiss to his stiffened jaw, Hux raked his own gaze over those wide eyes – so like a land-locked child seeing the galaxy for the first time.

“Stop,” Ren breathed out, then drew another desperate breath; layered upon him now, even with a lazy shift of hips, Hux frowned.

“Why?”

With his shoulders drawn up, back arching, toes curling into the slick porcelain of the bath, Ren stared at the ceiling as if it might give him more answer than the man laid upon him. “I need to know,” he said, and hissed something close to pain when Hux’s hand dipped low. “Why…why are you _doing_ this?”

“Why not?” And Ren’s eyes were upon him, liquid and dark, as he chuckled, lips tattooing the words upon flushed skin. “I take as much pleasure from it as you do.”

And Ren’s hand, callused and rough even immersed in such water, did not protest where Hux’s wrapped about it. And then he guided it down, his laughter a low and welcoming thing at Ren’s own indrawn breath. With Ren’s hand over the bulge of his cock, trembling and still, Hux could not look away. The dripping hair, reddened lips, the white of his skin: ash and blood and snow.

_And mine_.

“I’ve asked you that question so many times,” Ren whispered, and for the first time Hux could hear the faint rumble of his true power behind it. “And I still don’t believe any answer you’ve given me.”

And Hux jerked his hips forward, one hand braced upon the bath; the other now dug deep enough into Ren’s hair that he could watch the flinch of him, as it tugged at the sensitised scalp. “I like things to work properly.” His lips quirked even as he dipped his head, pressed them to the quickening pulse beneath his jaw. “If Snoke won’t ensure your proper functioning, then I will.”

“You overreach yourself, General.”

“Perhaps.” And he closed his eyes, sighed against Ren’s grip. “Or perhaps I only reached as far as I needed to go.”

This time, when they fell to kissing, again, both Ren’s hands rose to hold him down, hold him still. Hux didn’t care. It allowed him movement enough; even with the oiled water, he could thrust clothed hips against Ren’s cock in a manner to generate friction enough to bring him off. His own cock gave a desperate twitch to see the clouded water as Ren’s head fell back, shoulders opened wide, chest thrust forward with every laboured breath. And Hux could not help a faint sense of distaste, even to see such tangible evidence of his success. Levering himself out of the water, groin tight in his wet trousers, he did not get far.

“Hux.”

Only when he had stripped out of the saturated clothing did he glance back. Already he had palmed his own cock, the flush of it warm and familiar in his hand. “Should you care to return the favour,” he said with low smirk, “I have not gone far.”

In the shower, there was barely enough room for them both – and no escape from the too-hot water. Hux didn’t care. Everything was as he’d wanted it to be. Ren’s flushed skin pressed to his in what seemed every secret place he’d never known he had, for all he was clumsy enough about his seductions. And when he came, it was to find Ren, hard again against his thigh. Without much thought, his own mind still a tight tangle of sensation, Hux went to his knees. Swallowing him down, he glanced upward to find Ren staring back, eyes wide, braced against the walls. From the expression upon his face, to see Hux this way came as some sort of hallowed revelation.

And then, when Ren had spent himself again, Hux wiped the small white trail that escaped. Only then did he stand, the kiss offering Ren a taste of himself. “You’re much warmer, now,” he whispered.

Ren shuddered again, eyes closed; his head moved back against the wall, water in rivulets over flushed skin, rapturous expression as if he’d come a third time just then. “ _Hux_.”

He could almost taste the pleasured pain of it, with one kiss pressed to the corner of a trembling mouth. Then, Hux stepped out of the shower, hand reaching for the familiarity of towels hanging nearby. As he lowered his head to rub his hair dry, heard the sound of the water shutting off behind him. Hux did not look back. He looked only forward as he tossed his towel to the laundry chute, and strolled into his room, naked and damp yet. It was not his usual habit. None of this was. But then, this could be named something of a special occasion.

Ren did not emerge from the refresher. When Hux ambled back to the wide open door, it was to find Ren stooped over, skin luminous and pale, retrieving his clothes from the floor.

“Stop.”

Though he did so, Ren did not raise his head. Hux’s lips curled to see it: this delicious bashfulness, when but moments ago Hux had had his lips around that cock he now so carefully angled away from close scrutiny. But he could hardly hope to conceal the fact he had already grown hard, again. A shiver of delight shifted low in his abdomen, even as Ren finally asked, “Why?”

Leaning against the doorframe, his own resuming arousal on clear display as he folded his arms across his chest, Hux allowed himself a shrug. “You aren’t required anywhere until morning.” And then, eyes darkening as they moved over the fineness of that form, “There is no reason to leave.”

He looked up now, eyes very dark, lips pressed very thin. “Where am I to sleep?” His chuckle had turned dark, for all Hux could hear the edge of it, vulnerable and strange. “On the floor, perhaps?”

“There’s a perfectly functional bed.”

His surprise widened his eyes, knuckles white over the darkness of his robes. “You want me in your bed?”

And he chuckled at such incredulous disbelief. “Ren,” he murmured, and watched with delight as the man shook his head, eyes falling to the mass of clothing still in his now limp hands.

“Kylo.” It came as barely a whisper, this herald of true victory. “Call me Kylo.”

He did not move until Ren rose to his feet once more. Then, he turned, walking to the bed with a purposeful sway of hips, feeling Ren’s eyes focus upon his ass. It made him smile; he had no intention of allowing him to have it tonight, or even tomorrow. But Ren had to be reminded of what there was yet to earn.

Yet as he slipped between the cool, clean sheets, he could feel Ren’s pause, again.

“Hux.”

Upon his side, back presented to the other man, he asked with languid ease, “Yes?”

“You just want my power.”

And he snorted, adjusting his long body; he could feel Ren’s eyes locked upon his every movement, even through the thickness of sheet and blanket. “This kind of power, Ren – it goes both ways.”

When he spoke, it came low, the faint tremor of a faultline so terribly close to rupture. “I destroy everything I touch.”

Reaching over, Hux put out the light. “But you don’t have to.”

In the darkness, Ren stood silent, and very still. Hux closed his eyes, shifted one last time. And then Ren was slipping into bed behind him, warm, quiet, the great bulk of him pressed close to his back. One hand shifted, fingertips along the column of his spine – as if he might draw Hux’s thoughts to himself through flushed warm skin.

“Goodnight, Kylo.”

The unspoken request lingered, along with his touch. Hux still kept his mind to himself – except for a moment, a brief flicker of feeling: contentment, satiation. Calm. The anticipation of another time, yet to come.

A sigh ghosted against his throat – and then, a kiss pressed to the nape of his neck. As his breathing evened to near silence, Hux gave himself over to sleep. Ren might be gone, come morning.

But in this, Hux already knew he would be back. It could be no other way between them.


End file.
